


Once Upon A Winter

by pohjanneito



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Animal Traits, M/M, Otabek can turn into an actual bear, Shapeshifting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 13:34:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21254201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pohjanneito/pseuds/pohjanneito
Summary: Yuri dropped to his knees and drew his shoulders up to his ears, curling his body into a tight ball to protect his most fragile parts. He heard the snow crunch under the bear’s lumbering steps as it drew closer, but he was too frightened to look.“Please, don’t- don’t eat me.”The moment seemed to drag on forever. Yuri felt the bear’s heavy gaze on him, heard the rumbling grunt it let out as it poked at Yuri’s spine with its snout, its looming presence daunting.“Stay away, little hunter. Your kind is not welcome here.”Or: Yuri is a hunter living in a small village somewhere in the Urals. Otabek is a shapeshifter who can assume the form of a large bear. A chance meeting during one of Yuri's hunting trips changes their lives forever.





	Once Upon A Winter

**Author's Note:**

> I've been sitting on this fic for almost a year, but I figured Otabek's birthday is the perfect opportunity to finally share it with what's left of the fandom :) This takes place during some nebulous time before the 20th century somewhere in the Ural mountains. Also, there's no bestiality if that's something that worries you. Kudos and comments are very much appreciated!
> 
> Thank you to Selene and Bucky for the beta read!

_ Draw. Inhale. Aim. Release. _

The silence in the forest was broken by a sharp, startled, squeak as Yuri’s arrow hit its mark. He exhaled slowly and lowered his bow, the corner of his mouth curling up.

_ Bullseye. _

His prey lay in the shade of a tall spruce, the sky reflected in its lifeless eye; a quick, clean kill.

Yuri grabbed the rabbit by its hind legs and held it up, the thrill of the hunt fading as he plucked the arrow from its scrawny chest.

“_Blin_... There’s hardly any meat on you.”

He tied the rabbit to the strap on his backpack and eyed the sky through the snow-laden tree branches. It would be dark in a few hours, but if he could catch a pheasant or a fat grouse, he could make Grandpa a proper meal for the first time in days.

They were barely into the new year, but the communal grainery had run empty weeks ago, the two bad harvests they’d had finally taking their toll on the village. These days, the vendors at the market square stood behind half-empty stalls, their prices so high that only the more influential families could afford whatever was still on offer.

Yuri checked the traps he had set a few days ago, but found them untouched, and the only prints in the snow were his own. There simply was no prey left in the valley, especially with Pyotr Rusakov and his sons laying claim on all the best hunting trails. Yuri knew he wasn’t allowed to go anywhere near them due to some old feud between Rusakov and Grandpa, and after half an hour of fruitless searching, he finally let his gaze travel beyond the valley.

Further up north was the big river, frozen solid from Nayabr to Aprel. The mountains in the east were too tall and treacherous, and there’d be no prey anywhere near the railway constructions in the south.

Yuri turned his eyes west, past the old mine where Grandpa had worked before his arthritis forced him to stay home. The place had been abandoned for almost a decade, all roads ending at the rusted gates, the woods beyond vast and untouched.

Yuri knew he’d promised Grandpa he wouldn’t stray far, but all he needed was one more kill, something that wasn’t half-starved, just one more and their bellies would be properly full.

He recalled the elders in the village called the area beyond the mine Gallows Pass, an ominous name to match its ill reputation that lived on in old wives’ tales. Yuri didn’t believe in vengeful spirits or forest gods anymore than he believed in Baba Yaga, but Grandpa’s warnings about rock slides and rough terrain had always kept him from venturing too far west.

He approached the rusty gates, the name of the mine spelled out above them in a looming arch, most of the letters looking like they were ready to collapse. Shovels and overturned carts lay abandoned at the entrance, the doors into the bowels of the mine secured with a heavy chain.

Yuri stepped through the gate and walked past an old barrack the workers must have used for sleeping and eating, the shutters on the windows hanging from their hinges. There was no sign of a path anywhere, but a small shrine just beyond the barrack caught Yuri’s eye and he headed towards it.

The shrine had been erected at the edge of the forest, and in the middle of it stood a carving, the wood it was made from age-gnarled and white with frost. Yuri gave it a wipe with his hand and recoiled at the large beast that stared back at him, its features crude but effective. A sign of worship or perhaps a warning, for the forest beyond certainly had a strange aura, like it was somehow aware of Yuri’s presence.

He lifted his hand and traced his gloved finger along the worn teeth in the creature’s open jaws. “What the hell are you, anyway?” he wondered, a nervous shiver traveling down his spine.

The branches in the surrounding trees were decorated with small windchimes, the antlers and bones they were made of clacking in the wind as Yuri began to walk deeper into the forest.

There were plenty of tracks in the powdery snow, birds and small critters. Yuri dropped down to one knee to study the tracks by a well-gnawed sapling (fresh, the animal that had left them larger than the skinny thing hanging on Yuri’s back) and began to track their owner; careful to keep the wind on his face.

The prints led him to a small clearing, the late afternoon sun throwing spots of gold on the snow through the trees, and Yuri flexed his fingers around his bow when he saw that he’d finally caught up with his prey.

The rabbit remained unaware of his presence, almost invisible with its fur as white as the snow around it, but the black tips on its ears gave it away to observant eyes. It blinked at its surroundings, its nose twitching nervously as Yuri pulled out an arrow from his quiver. He set it against the string with steady fingers and filled his lungs slowly, readying his shot, the sharp arrowhead aimed directly at the animal’s heart.

_ Snap _.

The rabbit bolted behind a rock at the sudden sound of a branch breaking in half somewhere nearby.

“_ Pizdets _…” Yuri swore, his eyes darting around to see what had scared off his prey.

The forest around him appeared still and undisturbed, at least until -- Until the dark shape Yuri had thought to be a boulder came to life and began to move!

Yuri clutched his bow against his chest when he realized he was face to face with a large bear, the distance between them too small to be even remotely comfortable.

The beast stood between two frosty tree trunks, its breaths evaporating in thick puffs as it raised its head to scent the air.

Yuri’s muscles tensed, cold sweat prickling on his hairline under the rim of his ushanka. He slung his bow over his shoulder and reached for the rifle on his back as slowly as possible.

The bear locked eyes with him, unmoving even as Yuri loaded the gun and pressed the polished stock against his shoulder, taking aim through the scope. He had the perfect shot with almost no distance to speak of, but something about the situation felt wrong.

Yuri watched the bear through the scope. There was something almost sentient in its gaze, like it was judging Yuri and his intentions in silent consideration. And why wasn’t it running away? Or attacking. It just stood there, staring at Yuri with its… _ yellow eyes _?

Yuri lowered his rifle, his thoughts coming to a grinding halt, his jaw slack with surprise. He wiped at the scope and took another look and yes, the beast’s eyes truly were yellow, and so piercing that Yuri felt pinned to the spot by them.

“What_ are _you?”

The bear let out a heavy snort through its nostrils, the snow around its paws shifting as it began to move closer.

Yuri stumbled back, a panicked gasp escaping into the air as he felt his weapon slip from his hands. He watched it sink into the snow at his feet and when he raised his gaze the bear was even closer.

Every muscle in his body trembled with adrenaline, urging him to flee, but the warnings Grandpa had drilled into his head since he was little kept him from running.

_ Play dead, Yuratchka, play dead. _

Yuri dropped to his knees and drew his shoulders up to his ears, curling his body into a tight ball to protect his most fragile parts. He heard the snow crunch under the bear’s lumbering steps as it drew closer, but he was too frightened to look.

“Please, don’t- don’t eat me.”

The moment seemed to drag on forever. Yuri felt the bear’s heavy gaze on him, heard the rumbling grunt it let out as it poked at Yuri’s spine with its snout, its looming presence daunting.

_ “Stay away, little hunter. Your kind is not welcome here.” _

Yuri blinked, his mind coming to a halt as he strained his ears. The voice was oddly disembodied, like someone had spoken inside of Yuri’s own mind.

The air seemed to shift and Yuri lifted his head, slowly, just enough to glimpse his surroundings. The forest around him was quiet once more, save for a squirrel running up a nearby tree trunk, its nails scraping against the bark.

The bear was gone, the path it had made into the snow leading past Yuri and disappearing behind a large boulder.

Yuri blew out a stuttering breath and got up on his feet. He recalled Grandpa’s stories of spirits and ancient forest gods, the hair at his neck standing up as he scrambled to dig his rifle from the snow.

The shadows around him had begun to deepen, the sun sinking behind the mountain range fast as Yuri followed the trail of his own footsteps. His boots bumped against hidden roots that sent him stumbling, but he didn’t slow down until he had run past the mine, the twinkle of amber lights from the village visible just beyond the gates.

Yuri doubled over and leaned against his knees, his lungs burning as he struggled to catch his breath. The roof of his mouth tasted like iron and his braid had begun to unravel, strands of hair sticking to his clammy cheeks.

_ Snap. _

Yuri spun around at the sound of splintering wood, his skin crawling with the feeling of being watched by unseen eyes. Nothing moved in the shadows, the forest beyond the shrine he’d passed earlier eerily still, but Yuri pushed himself into a run, kicking up a cloud of snow as he hurried away.

Most people in the village had withdrawn into their homes after sunset, but Lilya Baranovskaya was still out and about, chopping wood in front of her house.

“Yuri Andreyevich Plisetsky! How are you coming home this late?” she scolded, cleaving a piece of wood in half with her ax. “Nikolai must be worried, hurry on home now.”

“Da, da,” Yuri panted as he ran past her house.

Their own cottage stood at the edge of the village, the old logs covered in a thick coat of frost, the eaves framed with long icicles. Yuri left the rabbit and his weapons out on the porch and knocked his boots against the railing before heading inside.

Grandpa was seated in his rocking chair by the fire, filling his pipe, some of the tobacco missing the bowl as he looked up. “Yuratchka! I was so worried,” he exclaimed. “The sun went down almost an hour ago.”

“I know, and I’m sorry,” Yuri nodded, heading straight for the stove to warm his hands over the heat radiating from the black iron surface.

“What happened? Did you get lost?” Grandpa asked.

“Not exactly…” Yuri rubbed his palms together and glanced down when he felt Potya rub her furry flank against his calf. He scooped her into his arms and gave her chin a gentle rub. “I just wanted to bring home more than one scrawny rabbit and I guess I didn’t realize how late it was.” Yuri buried his face into Potya’s fur and gave Grandpa an apologetic look over her bushy tail. “I only caught the one, though. I’m sorry that I worried you for nothing.”

The line of Grandpa’s shoulders grew more relaxed and he brought his pipe to his lips, striking a match to light it. “You caught a rabbit, huh?”

“A skinny one,” Yuri sighed. He set Potya on her pillow by the small altar Grandpa had in the corner of the room and began to remove his outer layers. “All the animals have fled deeper into the mountains.”

“Hrmh. It’s no surprise with Rusakov and those trigger-happy sons of his making such a racket every time they step out through the village gates,” Grandpa huffed, his teeth clacking against his pipe as he blew out a cloud of sweet-smelling tobacco smoke.

“Da… But I don’t think their luck has been any better than mine this winter. There’s nothing left to hunt in the valley.”

Yuri did a quick job of skinning the rabbit and prepared it for cooking, his mind lingering on the hunt as he stood by the stove and stirred the boiling stew. The things he’d seen were starting to feel like a distant dream, and he must have made it up, because bears with strange yellow eyes simply didn’t exist outside of folktales.

There had to be another explanation. Perhaps a trick of the light, the setting sun catching on the scope of his rifle? But that still didn’t explain the strange disembodied voice and the warning it had delivered.

Yuri set the table and poured an extra ladle of stew into Grandpa’s bowl before sitting down to eat his own share of their meager dinner. Grandpa began his usual speech about the new railway and how Yuri would one day have a chance to live in a real city now that the civilized world had reached their village.

“You do want that, don’t you, Yuratchka? You have to see the world while you’re young, go out there and find someone who shares your passions in life.”

Yuri stared at his reflection in his soup bowl, lost in thought. “Mmm.”

“Are you alright?" Grandpa asked, wiping his beard on the cuff of his sweater. “Your mind seems miles away this evening. Did something happen while you were out hunting?”

Yuri blinked and glanced up from his bowl. He bit his lip, wondering if he should tell Grandpa the truth. Would he even believe him? “I- I saw something, or at least I think I did. It was so strange that maybe I imagined it.”

“Oh? What did you see?” Grandpa asked, his eyes crinkling with amused curiosity.

Yuri watched him through his fringe, his nail going tap-tap-tap against the worn tabletop. “I came face to face with a bear-”

“_ A bear _? Yuri, are you alright?” Grandpa gasped, reaching across the table to take Yuri’s hands between his calloused palms.

“I’m fine, Dedushka, it didn’t attack me,” Yuri assured. “But there was something very strange about it.”

Grandpa’s expression darkened, the lines on his forehead growing deeper. “Strange how?”

Yuri glanced out the window and shook his head. “Perhaps I imagined it, but I could swear the beast had yellow eyes and a strange intelligence in its gaze, like it was judging me.”

“You went to _ Gallows Pass _? Yuri, haven’t I warned you not to go there? Those woods are not safe!”

Yuri blinked, taken aback by Grandpa’s scolding words. “How- how did you know I went there?”

“Because Gallows Pass is where _ it _ lives.”

“What are you talking about?” Yuri asked, the guilt giving way to curiosity. “Come on, tell me what’s out there.”

The look on Grandpa’s face was dead serious as he watched Yuri down the length of his nose, the light from the oil lamp above their heads casting deep shadows under his eyes. “They say the great guardian of the forest dwells in these mountains.”

Yuri arched his brow, wondering if Grandpa was pulling his leg. “The great guardian?”

Grandpa nodded, the corner of his mouth lifting with a wry smile. “They say the creature has many names, but the people of our village know it as _ Svyatibor _, lord of the forest, and Gallows Pass is his domain.”

“And this lord is a bear with yellow eyes?” Yuri asked, still not entirely convinced that Grandpa wasn’t feeding him a tall tale for dessert.

“Perhaps,” Grandpa smiled. “I believe I saw it once, years ago.”

Yuri pushed his hair away from his face and smacked his palms flat against the table, gaping at Grandpa. “_ You did? _”

“Da, long before you were born.” Grandpa leaned back in his chair and set his bowl down on the floor, offering the last of his stew to Potya who accepted it with a grateful meow. “Pyotr and I were out hunting in the woods beyond the mine when we came across a handsome beast, one that regarded us with strange, yellow eyes.”

The skin on Yuri's arms prickled as he listened to Grandpa’s story, his own encounter with the creature rushing back with chilling clarity.

“Something in the bear’s gaze made me lower my weapon, but Pyotr wanted its head above his mantle and refused to back down.”

“What happened?” Yuri asked, his shoulders tight with anticipation. “Did he fire at it?”

“He did, but I grabbed the barrel of Pyotr’s rifle at the last moment and the bear escaped into the woods.”

Yuri exhaled and leaned back in his chair. “Oh…” The ending to Grandpa’s story felt a little anticlimactic. “Is that why I’m not allowed to set foot on Rusakov’s hunting trails?”

Grandpa let out a bitter snort. “The man is an idiot who doesn’t know how to end a feud even after forty years.” He got up from the table and grabbed a couple of logs from the wood basket, tossing them into the hearth before giving Yuri a serious look over his shoulder. “I don’t want you going to those woods again, Yuri, no matter how good the prey there might be. The forest is untamed in those parts and you could easily get lost or hurt yourself.”

Yuri thought of the fat rabbit he’d almost caught and sighed wistfully. “Alright, Dedushka, I promise I’ll stick to my usual trails.”

* * *

Winds from the north brought heavy snowfall for a fortnight, and when the clouds finally cleared off, the biting cold that settled into the valley kept people indoors day and night.

Yuri stared at their larder, which appeared alarmingly empty no matter how much he’d tried to ration what little they had left. He pushed his hand into the burlap sack on the bottom shelf and set the remaining potatoes he found hiding in the folds aside for Grandpa. They’d had no eggs after Lilya had been forced to butcher her last chicken, and the strips of dried rabbit meat Yuri had managed to save from his last kill were barely enough to fill his handkerchief.

He split a hardened loaf of bread in half, leaving the bigger half for Grandpa before shoving the bundle of food into his backpack, tiptoeing around the room as quietly as possible as he got ready to leave.

Dawn was still a few hours away, but Grandpa pulled the curtain of his sleeping alcove aside and shot Yuri a worried look from his bed. “Yuratchka? You’re not heading out, are you? It’s deadly cold out there.”

Yuri pulled his fur tunic on and wrapped his scarf around his neck until the only thing visible were his eyes. “We’ll starve if I don’t catch us something to eat. The larder is empty and even Lilya has nothing left to spare.” He crossed the small room and crouched in front of Grandpa’s alcove, taking his warm hand in his own. “I promise I’ll come back before sundown.”

The worry etched into Grandpa’s face didn’t lift, but he gave a defeated nod, patting Yuri’s gloved fingers. “Alright, but you keep your feet on the trail and the valley in your sights, and be careful. The woods can be treacherous after so much snowfall.”

Yuri left Grandpa to rest and kissed the top of Potya’s soft head before heading out. The cold air hit him like a physical strike and made him sway on the threshold, the moisture around his lashes turning to frost as he made his way to the small shed next to the outhouse to grab his bow and rifle.

Every breath he drew stung his throat like salt in a wound, but Yuri pulled his scarf higher, his steps determined as he headed out through the village gates.

The sun lingered behind the mountains, but the fresh snow lit his way well enough and Yuri made his way to the crossroads where the main trail split into several smaller paths. He decided to try his luck near the river and followed its winding path through the woods, making his way higher up into the mountains.

He found a trail of fresh deer tracks in the snow and traced them to a small thicket further upstream, smiling when he spotted his prey nosing at frozen roots on the riverbank. He pushed his braid over his shoulder and readied his rifle, sliding his finger against the smooth surface of the trigger.

His shot shattered the still calm of dawn, and the deer let out a startled cry, creating a small cloud of snow as it fell down.

Yuri’s mouth stretched into a broad smile behind his scarf. He slung his rifle over his shoulder and glanced up, sending a few words of gratitude to the lingering stars above; it appeared their luck was finally turning.

The deer lay on the other side of the frozen river, small rapids here and there gaping like gurgling maws where the water remained open. Yuri stepped forward and set one foot on the ice to test its durability. It crackled under his weight, but appeared thick enough for a quick crossing, and he made his way to the other side in five graceful leaps.

The deer was on the skinny side, but its meat would make more than one stew, its smooth hide a perfect way to thank Lilya for all the aid she had given to Yuri and Grandpa this winter.

All Yuri had to do was figure out a way to get it home.

He’d rarely caught anything bigger than a wolverine on his own, but Grandpa had taught him how to use the forest around him to his advantage. He pulled his knife out from its leather sheath at his hip when he spotted suitable alder saplings nearby, perfect for a makeshift sled. He knelt down to cut through the frost-hardened stems and wound them together with supple branches, but it was no easy task as his fingers grew stiff and clumsy from the cold, the knife in his grip slipping every few seconds.

Yuri cursed under his breath and brought his hands to his mouth, his gaze wandering around the still wood as he attempted to warm them. His fingers stilled against his lips when something drew his eyes a little farther upstream: a trail of footsteps, one that didn’t belong to him.

Something had come from the woods and moved across the ice, the tracks too large to belong to the deer he’d killed.

Yuri moved closer for a better look, his brows pulling into a confused frown. “What...?” He pressed his palm against what was very distinctly a dent in the shape of a human foot. A _ bare _ human foot.

What fool walked around with their feet bare in the middle of the coldest winter?

Yuri followed the tracks across the frozen river, unprepared for the sight that awaited him on the other side as the distinctly human prints left in the snow shifted into massive bear paws mid-step with no sign of the stranger wandering away into another direction.

Yuri shook his head, a hysterical burst of laughter rolling off his tongue. “This is madness.”

His eyes snapped up at the low growl that joined the sound of his own nervous laughter. Every muscle in his body seized as his gaze landed on piercing, yellow eyes that stared straight at him from a canvas of dark fur.

The bear’s muzzle was red with what appeared to be fish guts, the snow at its feet littered with silver scales. The beast let out a growl, its sharp fangs on full display as it pushed itself to stand on its hind legs, looming in front of Yuri like a massive black shadow.

“Shit shit _ shit! _”

Yuri tried to get his feet moving, falling down twice before he finally managed to push himself into a run. Too afraid to look back, he scrambled forward in a blind panic, his vision shrinking into a narrow path, everything outside of it a blur of shapes and blinding white.

He didn’t even realize he was back on the frozen river until the ice beneath his feet collapsed and he fell into its cold embrace.

The current was surprisingly strong, pulling at Yuri’s feet like they were made of sawdust. His scalp ached like an open wound as he was submerged, but he managed to hold on to the edge of the hole and kicked furiously until he got his head above the surface. He gasped for breath, but the shock of the icy water made it feel like his lungs were shriveling inside his ribcage, unable to fill no matter how wide he opened his mouth.

He tried to claw at the snow around the hole, his panicked heartbeats throbbing all the way up in his tongue as he fumbled for his hunting knife. He managed to jam it into the ice long enough to haul his upper body out of the water, the churning currents still pulling at his feet.

The ice crackled under his weight as he struggled his way onto it, but Yuri resisted the urge to get on his feet and run to safety, remembering what Dedushka had taught him should he ever fall through ice. He squeezed the hilt of his knife like a lifeline as he pressed his arms against his chest and began to roll his body towards the river bank. His clothes clung to his skin like a leech and his hair was beginning to freeze against his cheeks by the time he finally managed to crawl off the ice, so cold he could barely think, let alone move.

Yuri blinked at the pair of bare feet that appeared in his quickly fading vision, his mind swimming into darkness as he felt a pair of strong arms lift him from the snow.

“I thought I told you to stay away, little hunter.”

* * *

The next time Yuri became aware of his surroundings he was somewhere dark and warm, the air in his nostrils smelling of pitch and woodsmoke. A heavy, grounding weight lay against his chest and belly, something soft tickling his skin. He lifted his arm, feeling around blindly.

Fur, thick muscle, claws. A giant paw.

“Wha- mmh-”

Somewhere in the furthest reaches of Yuri’s mind a tiny voice cried out in alarm and his eyes fluttered open. 

Something seemed to shift, the weight over his chest suddenly lighter, the pleasant heat vanishing. His vision cleared momentarily and his gaze landed on honey yellow eyes. Framed by dark lashes, they watched Yuri from mere inches away, much more human than before. 

Below them was a heavily scarred nose and a stern mouth. “Go back to sleep, you’ll be warm soon,” the mouth whispered, and Yuri allowed himself to drift off once more.

The cold seemed to seep into his bones and his body trembled with fever, his dreams full of dark shapes and sharp fangs. He was vaguely aware of gentle hands, brushing his hair and lifting his head to wet his lips with cool water, but it was difficult to separate the sensations from his fevered dreams.

How long had he slept? Hours? Days? It felt like weeks when he finally woke with a start, sprawled in a nest of furs and soft linens in the middle of a large wooden bed. Every muscle in his body bloomed with pain and he clutched at his chest as his heart hammered against his ribs like a war drum. His eyes flew open when he realized someone had undressed him and he blinked down at his bare chest, at his hands, which were wrapped up with straps of linen. He yanked on the cloth until it began to unravel and discovered the skin on his fingers was bright red and swollen, like he’d shoved his hands into a beehive. Someone had lathered a sticky substance all over his fingers, the smell of it reminding Yuri of the tea Grandpa liked to brew from pitch and honey.

He glanced around, the shapes and colors around him coming into focus bit by bit. There was stone, warm fire and thick pelts everywhere, the air a strange mix of dank earth, wood and smoke. Was he inside a cave? A small hut? There were carved little shelves on the walls, filled with jars and pots, and glancing up, he saw the thick beams of wood above his head were lined with herbs and dried pieces of meat.

At the back of the room was a small hearth and in its cradle a pile of smouldering embers with no sign of whoever had lit it.

Yuri didn’t feel like waiting around to see who or what inhabited the strange den. He pushed the covers aside, about to search for his clothes when the sound of heavy footfalls made him freeze. His eyes darted to a wall of thick pelts hanging from the rafters to his left. Something moved just behind them and Yuri clutched at the covers as the pelts parted around the massive body of a bear with gold eyes. 

The beast snorted, its gaze zeroing in on Yuri. The large fish between its jaws fell to the floor with a wet slap, the expression on its strange face almost surprised, if such a thing were possible.

Yuri’s mouth hung open as he stared at the creature, but no sound came out, his voice lodged in his throat.

The bear finally moved, shaking the snow off his fur like a large dog, lumbering across the room to stare at Yuri from the foot of the bed. It tilted its head, its eyes raking over Yuri’s bare chest, lingering on the raw red spots where the icy river had bitten into his skin.

Yuri pulled the pelts higher to cover himself, and the bear looked away, as if sensing Yuri’s discomfort. It turned its back to Yuri and walked across the room, the air around it rippling in a strange manner.

Yuri blinked, wondering if the fever was playing tricks on his eyes as the beast’s hulking body distorted, shrinking and shifting in an unnatural manner. The dark fur on its back seemed to grow inwards until it was gone, and Yuri felt a little faint because in place of the bear was suddenly a young man.

He was naked, the expanse of his back marred with scars of different shapes and sizes. He glanced at Yuri over his shoulder, his eyes as yellow as the bear’s.

Yuri finally found his voice, a burst of nervous, disbelieving laughter bubbling up his throat.

The man walked to a wardrobe, hand-carved like the bed, and pulled on a dark tunic, the scars on his back disappearing from Yuri’ sight. He threw a couple of logs into the hearth and poked at the embers with an iron rod to get the fire going.

“How are you feeling?”

Yuri blinked, somehow startled to discover that the stranger could actually talk.

The man turned to look at him, his dark brows drawing together in what appeared to be concern. “Can you understand me?”

There was a peculiar quality to his speech, an accent that seemed foreign to the valley. The stranger began to approach the bed, and Yuri finally spat out his answer. “Yes, I can understand you.”

The man took a seat at the foot of the bed. “And how are you feeling?” he asked again, seemingly unfazed by Yuri's shocked gawking.

“I- I ache all over.” This close, Yuri could see the man’s face was scarred like his back, thick lashes cutting through his cheek and the bridge of his nose. His features had a foreign quality, and Yuri suspected he wasn't from any of the nearby villages.

Had the man really changed shape in front of Yuri’s eyes or had he lost his mind somewhere between his icy bath and waking up naked in a strange bear den?

“Are you a god?” Yuri blurted, the question slipping from his lips before he could stop himself.

The severe line of the man’s mouth curved up, the scars on his face shifting with the motion. “Not to my knowledge.” He leaned a little closer and eyed the frostbites on Yuri’s hands where he had unwrapped the gauze. “Can you remember what happened?”

Yuri frowned and rested his head against his palms, a myriad of blurry images and painful sensations flashing through his mind. “Did I fall into the river?”

“You did.” The man took one of Yuri’s hands in his own and turned it around, brushing his thumb over the sore knuckles. “I’m sorry I scared you. I didn’t mean to-” He paused, appearing a little sheepish. “Well. I did, but I didn’t realize you’d run straight into the river.”

“Yeah, well, maybe next time I’ll stop and ask for directions,” Yuri grumbled. He yanked his hand back and hissed in pain, regretting the decision to rip the gauze off.

The man gave him a sympathetic look. “Wait there, I have something that’ll help.”

Yuri cradled his hand against his chest and watched as the man walked across the room to rummage through the jars on one of the shelves. “So you live here or something?” he asked, his gaze wandering around the strange dwelling.

The man nodded and pushed his fingers through his hair, overgrown and crudely shaven at the sides. “I do.” He came back with his fingers wrapped around a clay pot and took a seat at Yuri’s side. “I imagine you already know where we are.”

Yuri’s eyes grew wide at the realization. “Gallows Pass?” He shivered as he recalled their first encounter. “I saw you before, weeks ago.”

“You did,” the man nodded, arching his brow. “I didn’t think I’d see you again.” He removed the lid on the pot and held it up. “Will you let me put this on your frost bites? It’ll help them heal faster.”

Whatever was in the pot was sticky and smelt sickly sweet, but Yuri took one look at the sore spots on his chest and hands and allowed the covers to fall to his hips to show his consent. 

They were silent as the man applied his sweet-smelling medicine on Yuri’s injuries, the ache in them lessening almost immediately. “You got lucky, you know? I was afraid I’d lose you as I carried you here. It took hours to get you to warm up and you came down with fever soon after. But it looks like the worst is over.”

“You _carried_ me here?” Yuri asked, arching his brow as he took in the man’s small build. “You must be stronger than you look."

The man chuckled and got up to wash his hands in a barrel of water. “Perhaps I am.”

Yuri squinted his eyes as he recalled the feel of soft fur against his cheek and the sound of snow crunching under heavy paws. “_Oh _.”

“So, uh, what exactly are you?” he asked, unable to contain his curiosity.

The man shot Yuri a quick look through his unkempt hair, but ignored his question, picking up the fish he’d brought with him in his animal form. He set it on a flat piece of wood and sank a small knife through its gut, the wet squelch of innards loud in the stretching silence between them.

“Do you at least have a name?” Yuri pressed on, a little impatient now. He shifted on the bed and winced when he realized his legs were still too weak to move.

The man set his knife down, his hand full of fish guts, thin rivulets of blood running down his wrist. He dropped them in the fire, the oily sizzle that followed drawing a puff of smoke from the hearth. “My äke called me Otabek.”

Yuri’s lips moved as he sampled the name on his tongue. _ Otabek_. A strange name for a strange man.

“Well, you can call me-”

“I know who you are, Yuri Andreyevich.”

Yuri blinked, taken aback. “Y-you do?”

“I know everyone in your village.” Otabek began to cut the fish into pieces, dropping them into a small cauldron. “I knew this land long before anyone had even settled into the valley.”

Yuri shook his head, incredulous. His family had lived in the village for generations, Otabek, however, didn’t look a day past twenty. “What_ are _ you?”

“You’ve seen what I am,” Otabek smirked, as he continued to slice the fish with his knife.

Yuri sank deeper into the bedding and gripped the pelt with his sore fingers. “Are you… dangerous?”

“I can be,” Otabek nodded, fixing his yellow gaze on Yuri. “But you don’t have to fear me,” he added gently.

Yuri loosened his grip on the pelt, the line of his shoulders growing more relaxed. “My Dedushka says you’re the lord of this forest, something out of an old wives’ tale.”

Otabek appeared amused by Yuri’s words. “I’m no lord, or a god,” he said. “It’s true that I can shift my skin, but I was born a man.”

“What happened to you?” Yuri asked, a little breathless.

Otabek reached up for a bouquet of herbs hanging from a beam in the low ceiling. The sleeve of his tunic slid down to his elbow and the light from a nearby oil lantern revealed a large scar on his forearm.

“My people used to live south of the Urals, but my father and I traveled north in search of a better life after our settlement was destroyed by a horde of men from a rival tribe.”

Yuri tried to picture the map he’d seen in Grandpa’s old military trunk, the lands in the southern parts of the map so far away that he’d rarely even acknowledged their existence.

“My father and I followed the mountain trail for several months, until one night, I woke up to find our yurt collapsing on top of me with sounds of struggle coming from outside.” Otabek took a moment to sprinkle the herbs into the stew as Yuri impatiently waited for him to go on with his story. “My äke was killed that night.” Otabek turned his eyes on Yuri and held his gaze as he stepped closer. “The creature that attacked us tore at my flesh.” He pulled his tunic over his head, and Yuri saw his skin was a canvas of scars.

The air rippled and Otabek let out a groan as the bones in his hands stretched into large claws, his skin growing dark with fur.

“Blin…” Yuri whispered, as fascinated as he was disturbed by the uncanny sight.

_ “I survived and this is what I became.” _

The words seemed to echo inside Yuri’s own mind like they had upon their first meeting. “How are you doing that?” he asked, rubbing at his ears. “I was sure I’d imagined the whole thing.”

_ “Is that why you ignored my warning?” _

Yuri scowled at Otabek. “I didn’t! I wasn’t even close to Gallows Pass,” he huffed, a little defensive. “And I have to hunt, everyone in the village is starving-” Yuri’s words caught in his throat as his thoughts wandered back home, to Grandpa who had only three potatoes and half a loaf of bread left to eat. “Dedushka!”

Yuri pushed the pelt aside and tried to get out of the bed, but his legs were so weak that he could barely move them. He wrapped his hands around his thigh, the pain that flared in his palms when he attempted to lift it making him cry out.

He shot Otabek a pleading look. “Please, I have to go back. Dedushka will starve if I don’t bring him something to eat! How long have I been here?”

Otabek shifted back into his human form and pulled his tunic over his head, rushing to Yuri’s side. “It’s alright, your grandfather is well.” He took a seat on the edge of the bed and gave Yuri’s shoulders a gentle push until Yuri’s back hit the bedding. “The deer you killed by the river, I left the pelt and the meat on your porch while you slept your fever away.”

Yuri blinked up at Otabek, the rush of panic subsiding.

“I’ll take you home once you’ve recovered, but you have to get your strength back first.” Otabek got up and poured a ladle of stew into a clay bowl, offering it to Yuri. “Are you hungry?”

The rich smell of herbs and fish floating into Yuri’s nostrils was mouthwatering. “Starving.” He licked his lips, his stomach almost cramping with how empty it was. He grabbed the bowl from Otabek’s hands, too greedy to give it time to cool as he brought it to his lips. The tremble in his hands sent a spill of stew down his chin and Otabek hurried to wipe it off with the sleeve of his tunic, pressing his palms over Yuri’s knuckles to steady his hold.

The bowl was empty far too soon and Yuri held it up, his eyes pleading.

Otabek shook his head and took the bowl from his hands. “You’ll have to take it easy, Yuri. There’s plenty of stew left, but right now I want you to get some rest.”

Yuri wanted to argue, but the soft pelts and the warm broth in his belly made it hard to resist the call of sleep, and his eyes slipped closed, the feel of Otabek’s cool palm on his brow the last thing he was aware of.

* * *

Time seemed to exist in a vacuum inside the strange den. Yuri spent most of his days drifting in and out of sleep, struggling to tell whether it was night or day, the thick pelts by the entrance shifting only when Otabek ventured out or came back from his travels. The frostbites on his hands had healed enough for the gauzes to come off, and Otabek had lent him one of his tunics. It was a little loose around the shoulders and made of a strange, smooth material that felt like water under Yuri’s fingertips as he traced them over the worn embroidery around the collar.

It was obvious that his host didn’t get a lot of company, reticent and used to a solitary existence, but Otabek tended to Yuri’s injuries with gentle hands and fed him a warm meal twice a day, the size of the portion growing each time. He'd stepped out a while ago and Yuri lay in bed, his eyes heavy with impending sleep after their midday meal. His mind was already drifting off when a sudden loud rumble yanked him back from the brink of sleep. Like thunder, it shook the walls of the den so hard that clumps of dirt fell from the gaps between the beams in the ceiling, the air growing thick with dust.

Yuri sat up and looked around with frantic eyes. “Otabek?”

There was no reply and Yuri threw the pelt aside, scrambling to his feet as more dirt continued to rain from the ceiling. The dusty air made him cough and filled his mouth with a sandy taste, but he managed to pull his vest over his head, the fur clumpy and ruined by the river. His boots still sat by the hearth where Otabek had set them out to dry days ago and he rushed to pull them on, afraid the whole roof was going to come down on him.

The fever had left him weak in the limbs and his vision swam as he stumbled towards the entrance, fumbling at the heavy pelts until he found a small gap between them. He forced his way through and cried out at the ache in his eye sockets, the onslaught of light that awaited him on the other side almost blinding. He brought his hands up and used his palm to shield his eyes, blinking at the wall of white mist all around him.

The thundering sounds had ceased, but it was impossible to see past his own arm and Yuri let out a startled yelp when he sank waist-deep into snow. “Dammit!” He pawed at the snow and tried to dig himself out, spitting out a colorful litany of curses at the misty sky until something in the distance made him snap his mouth shut: a spot of dark in the white canvas.

Yuri stared, wide-eyed, as the shadow drew closer. “H-hello? Who’s there?”

Otabek’s familiar face materialized from the mist and Yuri blew out a relieved breath. He was in his human form, the lower half of his face hidden behind a thick scarf, the fur hat on his head white with snow.

“_Yuri? _What are you doing outside?” Otabek hurried to his side and slid his hands below Yuri’s arms to pull him out of the snow.

“Oh, you know, just thought I’d step out and freeze my ass in the snow to pass the time,” Yuri grumbled, dusting off his breeches. “Didn’t you hear the loud thunder just now? What’s going on?”

“There was an avalanche,” Otabek said, the weight of his hand settling on the small of Yuri’s back as he urged him inside.

Yuri’s braid whipped against his chest as he spun around to stare at Otabek. “_An avalanche? _ Where?”

“I think it started from the peaks of Red Horn,” Otabek patted Yuri’s flank at the alarm that rose to his face. “Don’t worry, your village is safe. There are a lot of broken trees and rock slides, but I doubt the damage goes beyond the old mine.” Otabek removed his hat and wiped the snow off the fur, watching Yuri from the corner of his eye. “I’m afraid the road out of the pass is blocked, though. Might be a while before it thaws.”

Yuri shook his head, his brows pulling into a stubborn scowl. “What? No! I-I have to get back, Dedushka can’t hunt and-”

“It’s alright, Yuri,” Otabek said softly, settling his palms over Yuri’s shoulders, his touch grounding. “I’ve been leaving half of the catch from my hunting trips at his door. Your grandfather will have plenty to eat.”

Yuri felt no less trapped, but the strain of panic in his chest loosened its hold a little at the knowledge that Grandpa wasn’t starving. He wrapped his fingers around the matted length of his braid, fiddling with the leather string at the end as he shot Otabek a quick look. “Thank you. You know, for Grandpa and for _ everything _.”

Otabek hummed, shrugging off his heavy overcoat. Yuri followed his lead and removed his outer layers, dropping down to sit on the pelts while Otabek went to revive the fire.

They ate a small meal of dried meats and washed it down with a bitter but savory tea Otabek brewed from some manner of root.

Yuri cradled his mug between his palms and observed his surroundings with newfound curiosity now that the haze of fever was finally gone from his head.

For such a recluse, Otabek had accumulated a lot of nicknacks, the shelves that framed the den full of little mementos. Yuri didn’t even attempt to reign in his desire to get nosy, and Otabek watched him over the rim of his cup with an amused glint in his eyes as Yuri wandered around the den. He picked up a small carved eagle from a collection of wooden figurines, turning it around in his hands. “Did you make this?” Yuri asked, stroking his thumb along the polished feathers.

Otabek nodded and came to stand behind Yuri, reaching over his shoulder to pick another animal up from the shelf. “Her name is Ayaulym and this is Beibut,” he said, tapping his blunt nail on the rabbit’s wooden ears.

Yuri watched Otabek from the corner of his eye. They weren’t too far apart in height, but there was something immensely large in Otabek’s presence, and Yuri thought of the bear that hid within him.

“You said you knew the valley before my people settled there.” Yuri narrowed his eyes, his gaze lingering on Otabek’s youthful face. “Exactly how old _ are _ you?”

The corner of Otabek’s mouth twitched, his expression teasing. “How old do you think I am, little hunter?”

Yuri pursed his lips and folded his arms over his chest. “You can’t be much older than me, and you’re not that much bigger either,” he said, arching his brow.

Otabek chuckled, but there was a challenge in his eyes as he backed up a little and pulled his tunic over his head. He began to unlace his breeches and Yuri hurried to avert his gaze, his host’s complete lack of modesty still a little overwhelming.

Yuri listened to the rustle of fabric as Otabek’s clothes were cast aside, his shadow on the wall growing larger as he shifted his shape. Yuri finally looked up at the sound of two heavy paws hitting the floor, his breath catching in his throat as Otabek lumbered towards him.

_ “You don’t have to be afraid, Yuri. I won’t ever hurt you.” _

Otabek craned his neck in a clear invitation to touch and Yuri blew out a nervous breath, his fingers trembling a little as he reached out to stroke the sleek fur of Otabek’s cheek.

Otabek let out a deep grunt at the contact, his moist breath hitting Yuri’s face.

There was a familiar white scar on Otabek’s snout where the fur was short and Yuri traced it with tentative fingers. “You never answered my question.” he pointed out. “When did you become…_ this? _”

Otabek leaned into his touch as Yuri reached up to scratch one of his ears.

_ “I had just turned twenty when I left my homeland and encountered the creature that made me.” _ Otabek opened his eyes, his gaze drifting to his own shadow on the wall. _ “I’ve been twenty for a long time.” _

Yuri raised his chin, his eyes narrowed. “How long?”

_ “When I made my home in these woods, this land was still ruled by a woman.” _

Yuri had never had the opportunity to become booksmart like people in big cities, but he knew Yekaterina Alekseyevna had died over a century ago. He stared at Otabek, trying to wrap his mind around the idea of wandering the world on his own, decade after decade, living his life on the fringes of society.

“Don’t you ever get lonely living up here all by yourself?”

Otabek pulled away from Yuri’s touch and turned his back to him. _ “Coexisting with humans is quite impossible _.” He shifted back before Yuri’s eyes, the whole thing happening so fast that Yuri’s mind had barely caught up with his eyes when the bear was gone and Otabek was pulling his breeches up his legs, the scars on his back in stark relief in the bright firelight. “All they want is my head above their mantle.”

Yuri stepped closer, his fingers flexing against his palms as he studied the many scars that littered Otabek’s skin. Claw marks, knife wounds, spots where the skin was puckered from sharp arrowheads and bullets.

“I’m sorry I aimed my weapon at you when we first met,” Yuri said when the silence between them began to stretch. “I… I didn’t know.”

Otabek turned to face him, the bitter edge in his voice replaced with something softer as he reached out to brush his knuckles against Yuri’s cheek. “You wouldn’t have hurt me, I could see it in your eyes.”

* * *

Time continued to exist in the strange vacuum, the temperatures outside the small den staying well below freezing even after the snowy mist from the avalanche cleared off. Yuri’s thoughts were on Grandpa every day, but he found that he enjoyed Otabek’s company, their forced cohabitation something neither or them seemed to mind very much.

“My Dedushka says he saw you once, years ago, when he was out hunting,” Yuri said, watching Otabek over the wooden game board they had set on the pelt by the fire.

Otabek moved his carved token and snatched one of Yuri’s pieces, the scar on his cheek becoming more prominent with his smile. “I remember. Your Grandfather was a young man when we met.”

Yuri’s head spun at the notion of Otabek having known Grandpa during a time that Yuri had only seen in a handful of faded photo portraits that remained from his youth.

“I’m very grateful to him,” Otabek said, and Yuri remembered the story of how Grandpa had come between Pyotr Rusakov and his prey.

Otabek collected another one of Yuri’s game pieces and Yuri finally turned his attention back to the board. “Hey! You’re cheating!” he accused, trying to snatch the token from Otabek’s hand.

Otabek laughed and pushed himself up to his knees. He held his hand out of Yuri’s reach, his voice light with mischief. “You’re a very sore loser, little hunter.”

Yuri bristled at being called little, but he found himself laughing as he pushed Otabek back down on the furs by his shoulders. Otabek went willingly, smirking up at Yuri as the token was pried from his fingers.

Yuri loomed over Otabek, his breaths turning a little shallow as they watched each other. Otabek’s eyes wandered down Yuri’s body and came to rest on his hand where it was pressed against Otabek’s chest.

Yuri felt the muscles under his clammy palm twitch and he blinked as something about the position made it feel like someone had dropped a hot coal into the pit of his belly. He yanked his hand away and let it hover in the air for an awkward moment before reaching up to ruffle Otabek’s hair. He pulled the overgrown strands over his eyes and hurried back to the game, setting the token he’d retrieved in the most advantageous position he could spot.

Otabek blew his hair away from his face and rolled his eyes at Yuri as he took a look at the board, the arch of his brow seeming to say _ now who’s cheating? _He reached over to give Yuri’s braid a light tug, some of the weird tension that had gathered between them still lingering in the dark gold of his eyes. “I’ll let you keep that, but you’re still going to lose.”

Yuri gaped at Otabek, the casual confidence in his voice as provoking as it was impressive. He wanted to respond with something witty, but found his usually sharp tongue stuck against the roof of his mouth, still too flustered by the sudden and unexpected burn of want in his belly.

The evening wore on and the game grew more intense as they took turns to move their tokens on the board. Yuri didn’t even attempt to disguise his cheating as his frustration mounted, but the game still ended in Otabek’s victory in spite of Yuri’s best efforts to play dirty.

“You got lucky,” Yuri muttered as Otabek collected the tokens into a lacquered box and put them back on the shelf.

“If you say so,” Otabek said airily, and Yuri didn’t have to see his face to picture the smug smile on his lips.

They took turns washing up with the snow Otabek heated up over the hearth, and Yuri was glad to finally unravel his hair and scrub away all the sweat and grime from his fever.

“You’ve gained weight,” Otabek observed, watching Yuri from the corner of his eye as he waited for his own turn.

Yuri’s hand froze on his shoulder, the wet cloth he was using to clean himself dripping water down his forearm. He frowned, unsure whether Otabek’s words were meant as a compliment or not.

“You look good,” Otabek added after a moment, something a little shy in his smile.

Yuri turned his back to Otabek to hide the small smile pulling on his lips. He set the cloth aside and dunked his head into the bucket of warm water, his hair floating against his cheeks like algae as the smile on his face grew even wider.

Sleep evaded Yuri that night as he lay in the bed they shared, his face mere inches away from Otabek’s.

Yuri followed the stern line of Otabek’s mouth with his eyes, the many scars that marred his skin doing nothing to diminish his appeal. He’d rarely met anyone even close to his own age, most of the people in the village either decades his senior or still in their swaddling clothes. He frowned when he remembered that Otabek’s youthful looks were deceiving. He was older than Grandpa, older even than the village. The things he must have seen and experienced, Yuri couldn’t even begin to imagine in his sheltered mind.

Otabek’s lashes fluttered, his dark eyes suddenly open and fixed on Yuri. Yuri let out a startled gasp, his cheeks flushing at being caught staring. 

They were quiet for a while until Yuri felt Otabek nudge him with his knee. He watched Yuri expectantly, like he knew Yuri had something to say.

“Have you truly never lived among humans after your- _change _?” Yuri asked after a beat, shifting under the pelt they shared.

Otabek’s answer was short and blunt. “Very rarely.”

Yuri frowned and scooted a little closer, his toes brushing against Otabek’s ankle. “But don’t you ever miss it? The company of others?”

Otabek shrugged. “Very rarely,” he said again, and Yuri exhaled a quiet huff into the air between them.

He arched his brow and shot Otabek a challenging look, giving his flank a teasing little nudge. “Not even during mating season?”

Otabek’s eyes grew a fraction wider at Yuri’s words, but if he was surprised by the question, he hid it well.

“Bears do have one, don’t they?” Yuri pushed on, the flush on his cheeks concealed in the meager light from the last struggling candle.

“They do,” Otabek nodded, one of his dark brows arched in an unspoken question as he met Yuri’s eyes._ Why do my mating habits interest you? _

“Do you ever take one?” Yuri asked, the question coming out a little hoarse. “A mate, I mean.”

Otabek inched a little closer and Yuri felt the brush of his fingers against his wrist under the pelt, brief and light like the flutter of a moth’s wings. “Not in this form.”

The answer and what Otabek implied with it took Yuri by surprise and he wrinkled his nose, his brows drawing together in mild disgust.

Otabek chuckled at the scandalized look on Yuri’s face. “The call of nature and animal instincts are not easily ignored.” He sounded serious, but the small twitch at the corner of his mouth gave him away. “You’re not jealous, are you?” Otabek teased.

Yuri kicked his shin under the covers. “You have a really weird sense of humor,” he grumbled, rolling around to present Otabek with the sight of his back.

Otabek chuckled and reached out to poke at Yuri’s shoulder. “Bears are actually quite solitary creatures.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that supposed to mean?” Yuri asked, glancing at Otabek over his shoulder.

Otabek shrugged and shifted under the pelt to roll onto his back. “It just means that I haven’t found a mate yet. In _ any _ form. Isn’t that what you were asking about?”

“Oh.” Yuri turned over and pulled his knees up, a small smile rising to his lips. Not that he'dbeen jealous, and, well… Who cares if he had?

“I was married, though, long ago.”

Yuri’s smile vanished with Otabek’s words, his body jolting a little under the covers. “You were?” he said, lamely.

Otabek’s eyes were fixed on the shrinking candle flame, the gaze in them glazed. “It was arranged by my parents. Her name was Umit and she was the daughter of a powerful war chief. She was a little older than me, and meant to marry my brother, but he’d been slain in battle the previous summer.”

Otabek let out a deep exhale and remained silent for a moment as he gathered his thoughts.

“I only met her once, at our wedding, and our union, which was meant to forge peace between our tribes, it was short-lived.”

“Why? Did something happen to her?” Yuri asked.

Otabek closed his eyes, the pelt above his chest rising with his deep inhale. “One of her father’s generals didn’t approve of the joining of our tribes and he managed to turn enough men against their chief. They attacked in the middle of the wedding feast.” Otabek’s voice became a little fainter. “Only few survived that night.”

Yuri failed to suppress the gasp that slipped from his lips. He sought out Otabek’s hand under the blanket and Otabek opened his palm, allowing Yuri to entwine their fingers.

“My father took me up north soon after. You know what followed.”

Yuri shook his head as he struggled to find his voice. “I’m sorry that happened to you, Otabek, to your family.”

Otabek brushed his thumb over Yuri’s knuckles. “It was a long time ago, I’ve found peace, though I do mourn those who lost their lives that night.” Otabek held on to Yuri’s hand and brushed his thumb over the freshly-healed skin of his knuckles. “Even if none of it had happened, I doubt I would have made a very satisfying husband to Umit.”

They were quiet after that, and Otabek had clearly spoken all he was going to say on the matter. His breaths slowed down as he finally drifted off to sleep, his hold around Yuri’s fingers growing lax.

Yuri’s mind continued to linger on the harrowing tale of Otabek’s ill-fated wedding and he couldn’t help but wonder why Otabek had thought he’d make an unsatisfying husband. Even an arranged marriage of convenience could turn into genuine love, unless… Unless Otabek shared the same deviancy Yuri had carried in his heart since he was old enough to know what it was to covet something he shouldn’t.

* * *

“What’s this?” Yuri asked, plucking at the strings on the strange instrument he’d found in an ornately decorated box. It was long and made of wood with something Yuri thought looked like two bowls in the middle. He tapped his fingers against the piece of leather pulled tight like a drum over the bottom half of the frame.

Otabek looked up from his whittling and brushed his hair back from his face. “It’s a kobyz.”

“A what?” Yuri took another look at the box and realized there was something like a miniature bow at the bottom. He picked it up and held it up for Otabek to see. “Is it a weapon or something?”

Otabek snorted and set down the piece of wood that was slowly starting to resemble a wildcat. He took the doodads from Yuri’s hands and beckoned him to join him by the fire.

Yuri took a seat on the pelts, visibly puzzled as he watched Otabek set the wooden instrument between his thighs. Its purpose finally dawned on him when Otabek took the thing shaped like a bow and set it against the neck of the instrument.

The den filled with a low, almost hypnotic melody as Otabek moved the bow over the thick strings. There was something melancholy about the song, and Yuri held his breath as he listened, unable to tear his eyes away from Otabek’s fingers as they manipulated the strings on the neck.

One song morphed into another, and Yuri observed the way Otabek’s brows pinched together, the line of his mouth twitching every once in a while with some concealed emotion.

He pulled a final trembling tune from the kobyz and set it down. Yuri noticed his eyes looked a little wet in the firelight and he averted his gaze before Otabek could catch him staring. 

“Those were songs from the great steppe,” Otabek said quietly.

Yuri cleared his throat and tried to show his appreciation with a soft smile. “I’ve never heard music like that. Thank you for playing it for me.”

Otabek tilted his head, almost a little bashful as he scratched the back of his neck. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. I hadn’t played for someone else in a… Well, in a long time.”

Yuri wrapped his arms around his knees and buried his bare toes into the coarse hairs of the pelt. “Do you miss your home?”

Otabek answered without hesitation, his voice wistful. “Very much.”

“Why haven’t you gone back, then?”

Otabek shook his head and reached into the wood basket to add another log into the hearth. “I don’t know if there’s anything to go back to. My family, my tribe, they’re all long-gone.” He fell silent for a moment, lost in some long-forgotten memory. “Maybe. Someday.”

Yuri had never had any great desire to travel the world, but seeing the longing on Otabek’s face made him wish he could see the land of Otabek’s songs. “I’ve never traveled far from the valley. Dedushka says he once took me to Yekaterinburg when I was very small, but I have no memory of it.”

“Cities are loud. They’re dirty and full of diseases and hatred for things that are… different,” Otabek said, the scars on his face shifting as he wrinkled his nose.

“Have you lived in one?” Yuri asked.

“I tried. For a time.” Otabek pressed his palm against his left flank, and Yuri knew it was settled over a puckered scar shaped like a bullet. “It didn’t work out.”

Yuri frowned, able to guess what had gone wrong. He reached out tentatively and cupped Otabek’s cheek, tracing his thumb along the raised lines of scar tissue. “People are assholes.”

Otabek hummed at Yuri’s blunt assessment, his yellow eyes turning fond. “Not all of them.”

* * *

The raw, pink patches of skin where the cold had bitten into Yuri’s body had all but disappeared, and he wriggled his fingers at Otabek.

“I don’t know what was in that stuff you kept slathering on my skin, but it worked better than the overpriced ointments the hags in our village peddle.”

Otabek looked away from the old bronze plate he’d polished to reflect his own face back at him, something mischievous passing in his gaze. “It was just a little deer piss, some moose droppings and a few other choice ingredients.”

“_What _?” Yuri gaped at him, his hand hovering in the air, fingers frozen mid-motion.

Otabek’s composure broke and his shoulders shook as he laughed at the look of sheer horror plastered on Yuri’s face. “I’m _ joking _. It’s just honey and pitch with some herbs thrown in the mix.”

Yuri scowled at Otabek, tossing his braid over his shoulder. “You really do have the worst sense of humor, you know?”

Otabek continued to grin at him as he went back to grooming his hair, watching his reflection in the bronze plate as he tried to trim his undercut with a small knife. He let out a hiss as he managed to scrape at his scalp for the third time since he’d started.

He set the knife down and cast Yuri a pleading look over his shoulder. “Could I ask for a little favor?”

Yuri’s brows climbed up his forehead. “What, you’d trust me to cut your hair? Really?”

Otabek held the knife out for Yuri. “Of course.”

“Well, okay, but I’ll probably ruin it…”

“I doubt you’ll be able to make it any worse than it already is,” Otabek snorted.

“Oh yeah, you do kind of look like a crazy hermit,” Yuri said as he considered Otabek’s unkempt hair, his smile teasing.

“I don’t know about crazy, but I_ am _ a hermit,” Otabek grinned back.

They fell quiet as Yuri took the knife from Otabek’s hand and squeezed his fingers around the polished handle. His heart began to race in his chest at finally being allowed to touch Otabek’s hair in such an intimate manner and he decided to indulge a little, running his fingers through the sleek strands all the way down to the nape of Otabek’s neck as he combed them off his face.

Otabek shivered under Yuri’s touch and their eyes met in the bronze reflection. He gave Yuri a flustered little smile, the skin on his neck turning to gooseflesh as Yuri’s touch continued to linger.

Otabek cleared his throat and Yuri drew his hand away, avoiding the reflective surface of the plate where he knew Otabek’s golden eyes were trained on him. He pressed his thumb against the blade to test its sharpness and set it against a spot just behind Otabek’s ear.

“I’ll be careful,” Yuri said, scraping the knife along Otabek’s scalp.

He began to steal quick little glances at Otabek through the mirror as he worked, biting his lip at the way Otabek’s eyes fell closed as Yuri settled his fingers against his jawline, tilting his head for better access. Even the dim lamplight couldn't hide the warm flush on Otabek's skin, his dark lashes fluttering every time Yuri’s hands brushed against his cheekbones.

Yuri couldn’t help but wonder how long it had been since someone had touched Otabek like this as he heard his breaths begin to grow shallow, the sight of his tongue flicking against his bottom lip sending a spark of desire below Yuri’s navel.

He’d never touched anyone in such an intimate manner before and his fingers were suddenly itching to explore, to trace the silvery lines of Otabek’s scars and follow the flushed patches of skin down below his neckline.

He hadn’t even noticed how his hand on Otabek’s scalp had stilled and he jumped when he realized Otabek was staring at him in the reflection of the bronze plate.

He felt Otabek’s jaw move beneath his fingers, his eyes boring into Yuri with a wordless question in his gaze.

Yuri lifted the blade from Otabek’s scalp, his hand hovering in the air as he wondered how to express his desire to accept whatever it was that Otabek was asking of him. He let out a gasp when Otabek grabbed his wrist without warning. The knife fell from his grip with a soft thud and they held each other's gazes in the reflection as Otabek pulled his hand down. 

Yuri blinked when he felt the wet tip of Otabek’s tongue flick against the calloused skin of his palm, like a strange kiss. His heart beat a wild rhythm in his chest, his fingers twitching against Otabek’s cheek.

“Otabek… I want,” Yuri struggled to form words, his mind foggy with the sensation of Otabek’s lips against his palm. “I want.”

Otabek was up on his feet before Yuri could react, his face half in shadow as he tilted his head, his fingers splayed against Yuri’s hip. He leaned closer, their breaths mingling, and Yuri could almost taste the traces of the honeyed tea they’d had earlier on Otabek’s lips. “You want this, Yuri?”

Yuri nodded, unable to tear his gaze away from Otabek’s lips. “So much,” he groaned, his hands flying up to clutch at Otabek’s tunic.

Otabek grinned and brought his hand up to sink his fingers into the soft hair at Yuri’s nape, closing the distance between them. “Me too.” He nipped at Yuri’s bottom lip until Yuri opened for him, and the kiss they shared was a little unrefined, not that Yuri had anything to compare it to. There was something almost frantic in the way Otabek licked into his mouth, his fingers clutching at Yuri’s hip and sinking into the thin layer of fat just above his tailbone.

They began to move against each other, thrusting in an uncoordinated grind as Yuri tried to match Otabek's pace. "Here, let's get you comfortable," Otabek murmured, wrapping his arm around Yuri’s waist to lower him down on the soft pelts, his fingers already pushing Yuri's tunic up, bunching it around his ribs.

Otabek’s eyes flashed in the firelight as he ran his palms up and down Yuri’s pale, exposed chest. “Do you have any idea what you do to me? How I’ve wanted you...” Otabek didn’t finish the sentence, but he settled between Yuri’s thighs and leaned down to follow the path of his fingers with his mouth.

Yuri whined at the feel of Otabek's lips as they moved down along the faint trail of hair below his navel.

“Are you alright? Can I go on?” Otabek asked, his chin resting against Yuri’s hip bone, the glint in his eyes wild and a little desperate.

Yuri reached down, his hands seeking purchase in Otabek’s hair. “_Please _ .” He didn't know what it was that he was pleading for, but with Otabek, he wanted anything, _ everything _.

Otabek hummed and buried his nose where Yuri was almost achingly hard, straining against the laces of his breeches. Yuri felt himself flush when he heard Otabek take a deep inhale, the groan that rumbled against his groin making his hips thrust up.

Otabek pulled away as he got up on his knees and yanked his tunic over his head, the muscles under his skin shifting with his movements. It wasn’t the first time Yuri had seen him undress, but the intimacy of the situation made the sight completely different. He reached up to touch a thick claw mark that ran across Otabek’s right flank, the raised skin soft like velvet under his fingers.

Otabek’s gaze fell down to Yuri’s hand, and he shifted his weight from knee to knee, suddenly uncertain. “Do you want me to put my tunic back on? I-I know how I look and-”

“What? No!” Yuri shook his head and reached up to cup Otabek’s cheek. “I like looking at you.”

Otabek leaned into Yuri’s touch, the corner of his mouth curling up as he reached down to undo the laces on his breeches. “I like looking at you, too, Yuri.”

Yuri followed Otabek's example and tugged on the leather fastenings on his own pants until he had enough room to fit his hand inside. It had been ages since he’d touched himself, privacy something he only found when he went swimming in the river during the summer, or when he slept under the stars on the outskirts of the village.

He took himself in his hand and parted his thighs, inviting Otabek to settle between them. Otabek fit in the space like Yuri had carved it just for him, his movements a little stiff, but confident in a way that had Yuri following him like a blind man, allowing Otabek to guide him along.

“Like this,” Otabek whispered, settling his thigh between Yuri's legs, urging him to lift his hips.

Yuri bit his lip as he rocked against Otabek’s thigh, the pressure against his cock winding the hot coil in his belly tighter. His lashes fluttered against his cheeks and he fumbled for Otabek’s hips to pull him down, already greedy for more.

Otabek's pace was more controlled than Yuri’s, but the wild burn in his eyes revealed just how desperate he was to be touched. “You mewl like a kitten,” he smirked, rutting against Yuri's hip, his voice a little wrecked.

Yuri smacked his palm against Otabek’s neck and pulled him down for a kiss. “Shut up,” he mumbled, his mouth splitting into a grin as he felt Otabek laugh into their kiss. “Come on, come on,” Yuri panted, burying his fingers into the dimples on Otabek’s lower back, too greedy to linger in the slow-simmer pace Otabek was trying to hold on to. He yanked Otabek's hips down, over and over, until he sent them both into a frenzy, Otabek’s control fraying as he panted above Yuri, his fingers clutching at the pelt next to Yuri’s cheeks.

_ “Yura.” _

Everything came to a sudden stop, and Yuri blinked when he felt Otabek grow stiff in his arms. He lost his rhythm as his hips jerked against Yuri’s lower belly, the warm splash of his release seeping into the fabric of Yuri’s breeches.

Otabek buried his face in the crook of Yuri’s neck and sank his teeth into tender muscle, the bite gentle, but possessive. Yuri wrapped his legs around Otabek's lower back to pull him down as he thrust up against his stomach, desperate for his own pleasure. It rolled over him a moment later, and he clung to Otabek's shoulders until the final tremor had passed, adding to the mess on his breeches.

Otabek let out a winded laugh against Yuri’s collarbone and nuzzled at the patch of skin where Yuri’s pulse still raced like the wind. He pulled his hand back and used his discarded tunic to clean the mess they’d made before settling back down and resting his head against Yuri’s chest.

Yuri offered him a fond smile and pushed Otabek’s hair away from his face. “I guess we’ll have to finish this a little later?” he murmured, dragging his blunt nails against Otabek’s scalp.

“Mmm. Though I have a feeling we'll find better ways to spend our time.” Otabek smirked up at Yuri, the look in his golden eyes sated, and Yuri watched him drift to sleep in his arms, the drip-drip-drip of melting snow echoing just beyond the entrance.

* * *

The frame of the bed shook and creaked as a heavy weight settled behind Yuri’s back, a nudge from a damp paw dragging him out of sleep.

“Hmmmph,” Yuri mumbled, tugging the pelt up to his chin, reluctant to wake. He burrowed deeper into the bedding, breathing in Otabek’s scent from the straw-filled mattress.

_ “Sleepyhead.”_

“Who was it that kept me awake, huh?” Yuri huffed, utterly drained in the best possible way.

Otabek didn’t respond, but Yuri could sense his wry smile even without looking. He rolled around to see Otabek’s shaggy head resting on his outstretched paws in a manner that made him look like a large dog.

Yuri reached out to stroke between his ears, the fur under his palm cold and a little wet. “You’ve been out?”

_ “I have. Come on, I want to show you something.” _

Yuri rolled his eyes and threw the pelt aside. “Fine, fine.” He stretched his arms and groaned at the satisfying pop between his shoulder blades, watching as Otabek picked his tunic and breeches up from where Yuri had left them sometime during the night, carrying them to him between his jaws.

Once he was dressed, Yuri followed Otabek out of the den, squinting against the bright mid-morning light that greeted him on the other side. There were small streams of meltwater running down the mountainsides and the sun felt warm on his cheeks for the first time in months.

“It’s begun to thaw!” Yuri exclaimed, breathing in the smell of wet earth and pine needles.

Otabek, still in his bear form, nudged Yuri’s shoulder with his snout.

_ “I can take you home now.” _

The joy on Yuri’s face faded a little at Otabek’s words. “Oh. Yes. You’re right, I mean, I _ should _ head back.”

Otabek turned to look at him, something a little melancholy passing in his eyes. _“Come, let’s get you something to eat and gather your things, then. We don’t want to waste any daylight.”_

Yuri didn't have too many things with him, just his satchel and his rifle, and they were on their way to the valley by midday. The snow was still deep in many places, but Otabek was able to plow through it, creating Yuri a path to follow with his massive bulk. The closer they got to the old mine, the worse the damage from the avalanche seemed to be, muddy debris and broken trees sticking out from tall banks of snow.

Yuri craned his neck, his stomach dropping as he eyed the massive wall of snow the avalanche had pushed down from the mountains. “I don’t know if I can get past that thing…”

Otabek crouched down in front of Yuri and nudged at his flank.

_ "Climb on.” _

“What? On your back?”

_ “Yes.” _

Yuri blinked, his eyes darting between the wall of snow and Otabek’s shaggy mane.

_ “Well? Are you coming or not?” _

Yuri threw his leg over Otabek’s back and clung to his fur as they began to climb.

The snow under Otabek’s paws gave under his weight in places, crumbling down the slope, but he pushed on until they were over the peak and on the other side, Gallows Pass finally behind them.

Yuri hopped down, his mood lifting when he saw one of his familiar hunting trails in the distance. “We’re almost there!”

Otabek followed at Yuri’s heels for a while, but as the village became visible between tree trunks, the sound of his paws grew more distant.

Yuri stopped and turned around, giving Otabek a puzzled look.

_ “This is as far as I’ll go. It’s time for us to say goodbye, Yuri.” _

Yuri shook his head and returned to Otabek’s side. “I-I don’t... “ He swallowed against the sudden strain in his throat. “Otabek, I-”

_ “Go on, your grandfather must be waiting.” _

Yuri was eager to get home to Grandpa, but parting ways with Otabek made his homecoming a bittersweet affair. He threw his arms around Otabek’s thick neck and pressed his face against his muzzle, nuzzling his nose against the sleek fur.

“Thank you, for everything you’ve done for me, and for Dedushka.”

Otabek flicked his warm tongue against Yuri’s neck.

_ “I was happy to have you as a guest. I-- I wish you well, Yuri.” _

“Don’t think this is the last you’ll see of me,” Yuri said defiantly, his voice muffled by Otabek’s fur. “No way.” He sniffled and tore himself away from their embrace, starting down the trail and glancing behind his back every few steps to see Otabek watching him from the edge of the wood, until, after one last glance, he was gone.

Yuri sank his teeth into his lower lip and continued to push on, following the fresh footprints hunters from the village had left in the snow.

The sunny weather had drawn people out of their homes and the market square was bustling as Yuri ran through the crowd of villagers, aware of the surprised looks he was attracting.

“Yuri Andreyevich Plisetsky!” Lilya Baranovskaya’s voice pierced the air and made Yuri halt in his steps. She came over from her tanning rack and settled her hands on her hips as she fixed Yuri with a stern look. “Where on earth have you been all this time, child?”

“I was, uh-”

Yuri couldn’t get another word out of his mouth as Lilya pulled him into an embrace, quick and no-nonsense like everything about her. Her voice turned a tad softer when she spoke again. “Hurry on home, now. Your Dedushka has missed you more than you know.”

Yuri nodded and rushed past the blacksmith’s workshop until their little cottage at the edge of the village finally came to view. He ran up the stairs to the porch, and reached for the door, but it was thrown open before he could get his fingers on the handle, Grandpa’s weathered face alight with joy as he greeted Yuri with open arms.

“Dedushka!” Yuri leaned into Grandpa’s embrace and drank in the familiar smell of pipe smoke and bitter tea that clung to his sweater.

“Yuratchka, my boy,” Grandpa smiled, ruffling Yuri’s hair.

Yuri looked up, bouncing a little on his feet. “You’ll never guess where I’ve been!”

Grandpa’s mouth curved into a sly smile and there was a knowing glint in his eye. “Oh, I have some idea.”

* * *

Spring arrived into the valley and the snow continued to thaw, the patches of wet earth growing larger by the day. Yuri turned his face toward the sky, allowing the warm sunlight to caress his cheeks as he hiked along a small path overlooking the river.

There was still some lingering damage from the avalanche, the earth overturned in places like a giant’s potato field, but the forest bustled with new life with the harsh and trying winter conquered.

Yuri fixed his hold on the fishing rod resting against his shoulder and paused to look around at the familiar feeling of being watched, a sensation he was becoming more and more familiar with in recent days.

He continued to make his way down the path, smiling to himself when he heard something rustle to his left, a dark shape shifting in a thicket of hackberry saplings.

The sound of breaking twigs continued to follow him all the way down to the river bend, and Yuri set his fishing rod down, finally turning around to look for his noisy shadow.

“I know you’re out there,” he called, his eyes darting around the small clearing. “You’re not being very subtle, you know?”

Yuri held his breath, anticipation bubbling in his chest as he watched the bushes by the water’s edge bend as Otabek stepped out of his hiding place.

He pushed himself to his hind legs, his paws held out, the sight no longer intimidating.

_ “It’s been a while, little hunter_.”

Yuri’s mouth pulled into a broad smile and he dashed across the clearing, skipping over small piles of melting snow until he was pressed against Otabek’s solid body, the weight of his paws settling against Yuri’s shoulder blades as they embraced each other.

_ “Have you been well?” _

“Da,” Yuri nodded. Otabek’s fur was soft against his cheek, the smell of wet earth and flower pollen filling his senses as he buried his face in it. “I missed you.”

Otabek pulled back and landed on all fours, shifting closer to give Yuri’s cheek an affectionate lick.

Yuri wiped at his face, a disgusted laugh bursting from his lips. “Gross! Your breath stinks of raw fish!”

Otabek licked at his own nose and gave a loud snort.

_ “Yes. The salmon are quite delicious today.” _

Yuri rolled his eyes and gave Otabek’s snout a fond rub. “Are they now?” He grabbed his fishing rod and pulled a small box of bait from his satchel. “Care to help me catch some?”

They settled on the river bank by a small fall, the river bubbling white as the water sprayed and gurgled around sharp rocks. Salmon with silver scales jumped up every once in a while, trying to swim upstream.

Otabek, still in his bear form, watched Yuri set a piece of dry bread into his hook. He let out an unimpressed snort.

_ “You’re not going to catch salmon with bread crumbs, Yuri _.”

Yuri pursed his lips and tossed his braid over his shoulder, ignoring Otabek’s remark. He cast the line into the water and settled down to wait for something to take a bite.

Otabek watched him for a moment before wandering up along the river bank. He waded into the water and settled on a large rock overlooking the churning waters.

Yuri forgot his own fishing as he watched Otabek swipe his paw at the jumping fish, chuckling at his attempts to try and catch them in his large jaws as they wriggled in the air. His smile faded when Otabek finally succeeded, sinking his teeth into a fat salmon while Yuri’s bait continued to go ignored.

Otabek brought the fish to Yuri, dropping it at his feet, visibly pleased with himself.

“Show-off…” Yuri grumbled, but his smile was secretly impressed as he watched Otabek from the corner of his eye.

Otabek went back to his spot above the falls and the pile of fish at Yuri’s feet continued to grow as the morning wore on. By midday, they had four plump salmon and a small perch that had finally taken a bite out of Yuri’s bread crumb.

Otabek pushed his head into Yuri’s personal space and nudged at his cheek with his nose.

_“That enough salmon for you?”_

“I’ll admit you know how to fish,” Yuri said, scratching behind Otabek’s ear. “But you’re still a show-off.”

Otabek snorted and picked one of the salmon in his mouth. He slumped down in a spot of sunlight and set the fish between his front paws, tearing into it with his claws and teeth.

“Ugh, gross.” Yuri wrinkled his nose, his tongue poking out of his mouth. “I’m definitely not eating mine raw.”

Otabek continued to enjoy his meal while Yuri collected some wood for a fire from the nearby thickets. He used the tinderbox in his satchel to get a fire going and prepared one of the salmon for roasting, saving the rest for Grandpa and Lilya.

Once he’d devoured his catch to the bone, Otabek came to dry his fur by the fire, sitting down on his rump next to Yuri. He watched Yuri pluck small pieces of roasted fish between his lips and licked his chops until Yuri offered him a taste.

Otabek’s coarse tongue rolled out between his teeth, wetting Yuri’s fingers up to the second knuckle as he swiped the piece of fish into his mouth. Yuri wrinkled his nose and wiped his hand on Otabek’s fur.

He finished his fish and tossed the bones into the fire, watching Otabek from the corner of his eye. “You’ve been following me around for a while, haven’t you?”

Otabek remained silent, but Yuri knew it was a sign of admission.

He spun the end of his braid around his fingers, his cheeks dimpling. “It’s mating season soon…”

Otabek’s shaggy head turned in his direction, the yellow of his eyes growing a little darker at Yuri’s words.

_ “So it is.” _

“Well? Have you found yourself a mate yet?” Yuri’s smile was teasing, but he felt a flare of possessive jealousy the moment his words were out of his mouth. 

Otabek leaned closer and his nostrils flared as he inhaled Yuri’s scent.

_ “I don’t know… Have I?” _

Yuri kicked up a small cloud of dust as he pounced on Otabek. “Da!”

Otabek let out a surprised huff, landing on his back, his paws pointing up at the sky as Yuri sprawled on top of his round belly.

Yuri dug his knees to Otabek’s flanks and rubbed his nose against the scar on his muzzle, dropping a hesitant kiss to the hairless patch of skin. Otabek blinked up at him, the weight of his paws on Yuri’s back growing lighter as he began to change his shape.

Yuri felt his knees hit the dirt as the body beneath him shrunk, and the next thing he knew, he was held in familiar arms.

“_Yura. _” Otabek cupped his face and pressed their foreheads together, rubbing his nose against Yuri’s.

He began to kiss down a path along Yuri’s jaw, his fingers pulling on the collar of Yuri’s spring coat to give small nips of affection on the meat of his shoulder. Yuri glanced down between them, arching his brows at Otabek’s familiar state of undress, his desire for Yuri visible between his bare thighs.

"Eager, are you?" Yuri grinned, and reached down to undo the laces of his pants, taking them both in his fire-warmed hand. He ground down, his thighs trembling as he did his best to keep them both in his grip, panting against Otabek's temple. He’d visited Otabek in his dreams countless times over the months they’d been apart, and having him here now, solid and warm, was a little overwhelming.

“_Otabek _.” Yuri fisted Otabek’s hair between his fingers, tilting his head to plant a kiss on his sharp jawline. "I can't- hold back." He exhaled a winded moan as his release took him by surprise.

“That’s it, Yura,” Otabek murmured, tilting his head down to watch as Yuri continued to thrust against him, his release spilling down his knuckles. He buried his fingers in the half-unraveled length of Yuri's braid and exposed the pale line of his neck. Yuri cried out at the feel of Otabek’s teeth sinking into the flesh between his neck and shoulder, but Otabek hurried to soothe the bite with his tongue as he trembled with his own release.

Yuri wiped his hand on a tuft of grass and reached up to touch the bruise Otabek had left on his skin, a happy little cry escaping his lips as he realized its meaning.

Otabek pressed his knuckles gently to Yuri’s chin, the look in his half-lidded eyes fond. _“Sorry, but I m getting a little chilly.” _He began to shift his shape once more, forcing Yuri's thighs father apart around his growing bulk.

Yuri chuckled and leaned down to drop a kiss to Otabek’s nose, the texture strange and rubbery against his lips. He yelped when he felt Otabek flick his tongue over his own freckled nose, his moist breath puffing against Yuri’s cheeks.

Yuri crossed his arms over his chest, watching Otabek with narrowed eyes as he wiped his face on his sleeve. “If I’m going to be your mate and you have any intention of kissing me, you’re definitely not eating any raw fish.”

Otabek parted his jaws and let out an amused huff, giving Yuri’s arm a playful swipe with his paw. _ “Mate, huh?” _

Yuri flushed and shook his head to hide behind his fringe, but Otabek pushed it aside with a long claw, careful not to scrape Yuri’s skin. He let out a satisfied grunt and wound his paws around Yuri’s shoulders, embracing Yuri’s offer.


End file.
